


This Ain't a Fairy Tale

by Strange and Intoxicating -rsa- (strangeandintoxicating)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Parody, Fairy Tale Style, Humor, I have no idea, I was going for this to be super serious but then Prompto opened his mouth and it was over, M/M, Promptio Week, promptio week day 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 16:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11317686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeandintoxicating/pseuds/Strange%20and%20Intoxicating%20-rsa-
Summary: A modern fairytale of a human boy destined become King of the Fairies, and the Shield meant to protect him.





	This Ain't a Fairy Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I have no idea where this went and I still have no idea where it's going. 
> 
> This was originally meant to be super serious and super stylized, but the moment Prompto opened his mouth it became a parody. I decided that, despite this act, I would keep the two different feelings in juxtaposition—on one side we have the super stylized narration, and on the other we have the actual way I think the characters would speak. 
> 
> This is going to probably be about 3-4 chapters, but you know how I can get sometimes...

Once upon a time, in a faraway land of a bustling metropolis known as New York City, a little boy was found in a cardboard box outside of St. Peter's Church.

He had nothing but the finely-made clothing on his back, the satin pinched with something that glimmered in the morning light, and a small blanket wrapped around his shoulders with a single word embroidered in the corner. No toys, no pacifier for him to suckle, and no parents. He did, however, have a small tattoo on his inner wrist. 

It looked like a barcode, and the nun who had found him curled up on the steps had been horrified that a small child had been branded like cattle. The poor thing was so small and yet there was something about him, something that the nun could not quite put her finger on.

Perhaps it was his flaxen hair, his sweet giggle, the comfort he took from her touch and his refusal to cry, even when she tried her best to scrub the tattoo from his wrist.

But the nun knew it was something else, something in his deep blue eyes that spoke of something... else. Something without a name, but she knew was special. 

He was different. 

The orphanage affiliated with the church took him in, and he became their ward. It was not a scary or destitute life, but a childhood filled with loneliness and a hole void that nothing could fill. But the little boy, named Prompto for the word on his blanket, thrived the best he could. He was smart, so very smart, and was quick with making little inventions with whatever he could find. 

But, as all of the nuns and priests knew, the best thing for Prompto was to allow him loose in the gardens in the morning. He was a bright boy, overflowing with joy and color, energy that made the flowers bloom and the winter grounds thaw.

It scared them, at first. The other children avoided him feared his powers, but it took time and patience for them to come together to understand what Prompto had was a gift, and a gift that was not to be squandered. Instead, the Nuns allowed Prompto control of the little garden to grow them fruits and vegetables and every harvest the produce was larger and better than the last. There were always fresh strawberries to pick, sweet and tart apples falling from the branches of the tree outside the window, and the ever present tang of something in the air that spoke of time and age.

There was something old there, something that watched without speaking. 

But Prompto lived a simple life, helping around the church and caring for the ill. He had grown up a fair amount and yet it had seemed like no time had passed at all. It was almost his 18th birthday when something changed and the world became a little more magical, a little more beautiful. There was something about him that was like a blessing, and it was better to simply turn the other way. 

It was the fortnight before his birthday when Prompto woke to find himself slowly walking through the small garden he called his own. His feet were cold on the grass, but he continued forward even as he blinked the sleep from his eyes.

There was something there, in the darkness, calling to him.

Prompto wanted to be afraid, wanted to scream, but there was something there, in the peacefulness that was his home, that kept him quiet. He trusted the gardens, just as they trusted him.

And then he saw it like gossamer threads of silk spinning before his eyes through the trees. 

It was beautiful and it called to him.... and Prompto could not help but to follow. There was something, a voice that reached out from somewhere just beyond his sight. It was the whisper of the trees and the cry of the birds, the rustle of the winds and the feeling of something watching him.

He was not afraid.

The man should not have been there, but he was. There was something about the way he looked at Prompto, the way that he seemed to know that Prompto was different and how Prompto knew that _he_ was different, too. 

"Uh, who are you?" Prompto asked.

"The one who has called you from the trees." 

"Dude, yeah. I can see that."

But Prompto did not understand the man in front of him. He did not understand how the man's thin silken pants reflected the moonlight. He also did not understand how the man's tattoos seemed to ripple like the waves and the halo of something ethereal glowed around the man's head. 

Prompto also did not seem to have the ability to process that the man, for all the muscle and strength he possessed, was nary but a foot tall and floating in front of him near a low-hanging tree branch. 

"Then you know it is time to come with us. It is time for you to become the prince we have known you to always be."

Prompto, for his years of loneliness, was not quick in accepting the small man's words.

"Uh, yeah. No thanks?"

"This wasn't up for discussion."

Prompto was rather offended by the manner of the man before him and went to hurt, but he found his legs locked in place, the grass from below his feet anchoring him to the garden.

"Hey, hey! Dude! Come on, this isn't fun! Lemme go!"

But the being—for it could not truly be a man—only rolled his eyes.

"Fine then, mortal. If you do not wish to follow your path, then I shall use a different method. You, the child of the gardens we have provided fruit, must pay the price for partaking in our sweet offerings."

Prompto blinked. "Like money?" 

"No mortal money will be enough."

"I got some pot? Will that work?"

The words seemed to only anger the creature before Prompto.

"Your moral inhibitors do not work—" 

"You sure? Because I'm thinking there's a fairy floating in front of me asking for money. Clearly there is something _really_ good in it. Maybe it'll work." 

But now the being was no longer amused, instead twisting his hands in front of him and calling forth the roots of the apple trees to spring around Prompto's feet.

"Okay, listen here blondie—I got the short end of the stick because Ignis had to babysit the other prince. We've been letting you steal our shit for years because King Regis said letting you stay in the human world would do you some good. But kid, now that I've see you up close you really ain't impressing me, prince or no. Waste of good fae blood." 

“Wait—you're really a fairy? What? I'm a fairy? Huh?"

The being looked at Prompto. There was a scar across his face, belying a life of strength and war. It slashed across his left cheek and brow, leaving a milky eye in contrast to the dark amber eye on the other side of his face. He…. certainly didn’t seem to be human. Especially considering he was only the size of part of Prompto’s arm.

"You know what? Maybe you were right and that pot you have is pretty strong. I think it melted your brain cells.” 

"A fairy? Like.... Tinkerbell?"

The fairy rolled his eyes. "Am I running around in a mini-dress with glitter wings growing out of my back?" 

Prompto kicked at the roots around his feet, but it did not help. He did, however, inspect the tattoos across the fairy's shoulders.  "Is that an eagle?" The roots tightened further. "Ow! Ow, ow! That hurts!" 

"It isn't supposed to _tickle_."

"And what do you mean prince?" 

"Clearly the King was mistaken. He musta lost the real prince. No way some bratty twat like you is fit to rule anything. Even Noct is better than you, and he's _asleep_ half the time."

But Prompto, for all the bravado of the creature before him, could tell that there was something in his words that rang hollow. It was in how he started at Prompto with his blazing amber eye, how the air seemed to be stifling between them and yet as cold as any other mid-October night should have been.

"But... uh. Me? A prince?"

The fairy turned his back, though how he managed to move without stepping Prompto did not quite know. "Guess Noct'll have to rule on his own. He'll just have to suck it up. I mean, wouldn’t be the first time it had to happen. Meh.”

"Noct who?"

But the unearthly creature did not respond, instead slowly drifting toward a twisted knot that stretched across the center of the nearby tree. 

"I guess... I could force you to come," the creature responded mildly. "Of course, dunno what laws and whatnot I'll be breaking, but... the king'll let me go. Probably."

It was then that Prompto felt the strangest urge pull at his stomach. It was as if a cold hand had reached its way between his ribs and spine and began to run its fingers over his organs. 

"Hey! Hey! Whatever you're doing, knock it off!"

But the fairy only rolled his eyes again. "If you're the prince I'm going to have to shield, this job is going to suck way more than I thought." And with those encouraging words, the tattooed fairy stretched his arms and the tattoos rippled across the surface of his skin. The eagle wings exploded in a show of brilliant white light.

“Now, am I gunna have to pull you in or will you make this easy on me?” The fairy motioned toward the knot of wood.

“Uh…”

“I’ll take that as you being a pain in the ass. Again.” He flexed his arms and his wings spread out behind him. Then, after a moment snapped his fingers. The roots around Prompto’s feet gave a massive pull and he was sent careering forward toward the tree.

“Name’s Gladio, by the way. And this might hurt.”

Bracing for impact, the young man screwed his eyes closed and threw out his hands in the vain hopes to not harm himself further. 

Prompto screamed as his head smacked right into the tree. The fairy, Gladio, laughed as the tree seemed to swallow the young man whole.


End file.
